Youth Leadership Conference

Rick Hughes, San Juan County Councilman, and 40 local youth from San Juan County at Camp Orkila talk about local government and prevention issues – Photo by Debbi Fincher

Debbi Fincher of the SJI Prevention Coalition shares this essay written by Aida Must, a 7th grader from Friday Harbor.

Hi Tim, I wanted to let you know how our first San Juan Youth Leadership Conference went. Here is one account from a local 7th grader. Thanks again for your continued support of our local youth. These young people are already amazing leaders… I just love the last few sentences of this youth’s article. Take care, Debbi

And here are Aida’ thoughts…

Aida Must, 7th grader Friday Harbor – Debbi Fincher photo

Camp Orkila was an amazing experience, and I will always remember it. Before the leadership conference, my friends would talk about it all the time, and I would always listen intently at the stories of mud pits and giant swings, wondering what it was like. When I got invited to come, I was so excited, I spent the rest of the day pondering about how the trip would be.

On the way there, somewhere along the ride we picked up Orcas in a big, bulky, Camp Orkila bus. It was an old bus, with clear signs of paint chipping. There were silver rungs above our heads, making me tempted to swing on them, though we probably weren’t supposed to. I enjoyed swinging on them anyways. Orcas and Friday Harbor didn’t mind any attention to each other. It was long, quiet and awkward.

When we got to camp, we were greeted by Anika, Steve, and Jenny, the three Orkila counselors. There were small whispers rippling around the room, but it was only conversations between our own islands. Lopez hadn’t arrived yet, so there were a lot of empty chairs.

Eventually Lopez came, but by then I felt like there was a thick, long line splitting us into three groups of civilization. There was Lopez, Friday Harbor, and Orcas. Three separate islands that seemed like strangers to each other. We were separated into three cabins, one for each island. The tension was so thick I felt like I could cut it with a butter knife.

However, Camp Orkila had us play games that made us all interact with each other. We started to make small conversations, and we made a few acquaintances here and there. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. Some people already knew each other to begin with, which probably made the transition easier. We played games that taught us to ask for help when we needed it, to lean on each other, and to work together as a team. We learned how to be leaders, but also how to follow. In the world of Camp Orkila, nothing was ridiculous. Nothing was boring.

By the second day, I felt more comfortable with everyone. At night, we watched a movie (lots of ranting involved), played games, and ate marshmallows around the campfire. Everyone split off between the groups of activities, wandering around from section to section. I fell asleep thinking that maybe we weren’t as different as I thought we were. Except the fire alarm went off three more times. Someone suggested, “We should, like, totally invade Orcas and be like, ‘hey there’,” but we didn’t think they would really appreciate that.

It turned out one of our fire alarms was broken, which led a chain reaction to the rest of them, creating a harmonic symphony of an ear-piercing, high pitched cacophony. One of my friends came over from another cabin and offered, “Jump into my arms! I’ll definitely catch you!”, but I wasn’t so sure I would survive the jump.

The last day was the best day. Yet it was the worst day. The giant swing was our last stop at Camp Orkila. I was totally pumped up. We geared up with our lovely blue bouffants (stylish) and suspenders that gave you wedgies, and split into two groups for the two swings. The swings were high up in the air, with a ‘Y’ shape to keep you from crashing sideways into the trees. You could decide whether to go all the way up or choose to go lower. I decided that I would go all the way up in a split-second decision and chose to go second. Everybody else in line would pull you up with rope, and you had to pull a purple string to let yourself go.

Going up was easy, but letting go was hard. I know that if I didn’t make a snap-decision, I would never have been able to pull the rope. So I pulled it (without thinking), and my stomach flipped and I was falling faster than I had ever fallen before. I swung in a huge arc, my voice falling in and out with the velocity I was speeding at. It was extremely nerve wracking, but I have no regrets. When I got off and it was my turn to join in with the pulling, I laughed and talked with my group the whole time. We got sidetracked a little, sometimes forgetting to pull the rope, but it was fun getting to know everybody. The worst part, though, was leaving. I had just experienced a taste of Camp Orkila, and I wanted to eat the whole cake. But I didn’t have that luxury. I left my email with my newfound friends and left for good. I realized it isn’t about Orcas, Lopez, or Friday Harbor. It’s about the San Juan Islands, the amazing community we are. We can choose to think of ourselves as separate. But I like it better when we’re one of the same, three parts of the same whole. I will never forget Camp Orkila, or the marks that it left on my heart.

Aida Must, 7th grader Friday Harbor

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